Bumps in the road
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: Francis and Mary try to make the most out of the last moments of their honeymoon…in the carriage on their way back.


"Well, there is something everyone will want from us that we can agree on." He tells her and she smiles, knowing exactly what he's referring to.

"A castle full of little royals?" She asks him, a note of amusement in her voice. They both can't help but smile at that, talk of their future children one of the many things they enjoyed while they were alone at the countryside. With the flesh memory of all those days still fresh in her skin her gaze drops down to his lips then, and he mirrors her; they are so in tune to each other. Almost like a magnet he dives straight for her lips, pulling her to him. She kisses him back, the smile on her face almost complicating their kiss.

She wants to hold on this feeling for as long as she possibly can; being alone with Francis, completely happy, feeling like they are the last people on earth. She doesn't want to go back to reality just yet. So she kisses him back, getting lost in him for just a while longer. Pushing their return to court to the back of her mind is quite easy when he kisses her like it's the first time and the last time all at once.

Sighs of pleasure escape her lips as he tilts her head, deepening the kiss, and it's not as playful anymore, his hand caressing its way down her side and brushing over her breast. She pulls away slightly, her blood heating up, her dress starting to feel much too tight with her speeding breaths. He continues trailing kisses across her cheek, and her neck, his breath warm on her skin disappearing any trace of the chill from outside.

"Francis…" She gasps when his teeth nip at her earlobe, "we can't…here." She tells him, but not making a move to stop him.

"We can," He pulls away from her skin for a moment to look into her eyes, a mischievous glint shining in his own. "if we're quiet…" He tells her, a smile spreading in his face and she can't argue with that logic, doesn't even want to try. She pulls him back toward her, throwing caution to the wind. His tongue parts her lips once again, and she lets him in, sinking into the feeling, his hands running down her body, awakening her desire for him, tension starting to coil deep in her belly. His mouth ghosts over the top of her breasts, the only bare skin her tight dress allows to show.

"Have I ever told you how much I dislike your corsets?" He asks against her collarbone, his thumb brushing her nipple over her clothes, and oh, she feels that.

"Yes," she gasps, "many times." She's almost teasing, and his mouth returns to hers as his hand begins pulling at her dress, lifting her skirts up. His arm sneaks underneath and the first time he touches her she pulls away from their kiss sharply, having to bite down on her lip to keep herself from crying out. The image only seems to make Francis hotter, and he covers her mouth with his own to muffle her gasps. Drawing attention to them is the last thing they need, but he makes it so difficult for her. His finger moves insistently against her now, feeling how wet she is, and all she can think is that she wants him inside, now. With his help she climbs onto his lap, her knees settling on either side of his waist. Her hands run down his chest, to his pants, searching blindly for the button which makes him groan rather loudly. She pulls away from his lips for a second to tease him with a smile.

"What about being quiet?" She asks him and he just sinks his hand in her hair, bringing her mouth back to his. She finally pulls his pants open, and he raises up just enough for her to pull the leather down, and take him out, hot and throbbing in her hand. She rises up in her knees, attempting to lower herself down on him slowly but a bump in the road makes the carriage jump suddenly and she sinks down on him, right to the hilt, making her hiss.

"Are you all right?" His question is answered when she giggles after the initial surprise.

"God, yes." She tells him, pulling him even closer, her lips aggressive against his and he grabs her hips as she begins to move up and down his length, finding a rhythm. Her skirts fall around them as they move against each other slowly, almost with the sway of the carriage as it moves down the road, taking them back to reality. Foreheads pressed together, sweat starts to bead on their skin despite the winter outside.

He knows her tells, and when her brow starts to furrow, her kisses becoming nothing more than little gasps against his mouth, he turns them on his side, taking her with him and settling her down on the carriage sit, her back against the wall. One of his hands goes between them to rub at her clit and his other holds on the window, gaining some leverage as he thrusts into her, faster and harder than before.

They move in frenzy then, rocking the carriage as they come against each other, again and again, trying to keep their pleasure down in whispers. Their blanket lies forgotten on the floor and her dress is unspeakably wrinkled, but they manage to push away reality for just a few more minutes.

-.-

All that the tired, weary driver of the carriage can think as he drives back to French court, is that he doesn't remember the roads being this uneven 2 months ago, because the carriage is moving far too much this time around. He just shrugs, shaking his head to get rid of sleep, and urges the horses to go faster.

Needless to say, there weren't any new bumps in the road.


End file.
